Legion of Angels
by WildMustangShadowfax
Summary: War is upon the world. Even the Gods power is being drained. Their fate rests in Alanna and her friends hands, and a legion of four thousand angels -- mortal angels.


Disclaimer: _**I do not own the characters or the setting, they belong to Tamora Pierce. **_

**Author's Note: **_Set after __Lioness Rampant__ a few years. __The Immortals__ never happened. _

**Prologue:**___A war has broken out in the world. The fight rages in all direction. No one knows who started it, only that it's a disaster. The Gods are having their power drained -- this war effects them as well, but without their power they can do nothing. The fate of the world rests in Alanna's and her friends' hands. _

"This is what I can give you, my daughter." The woman's voice was soft, but at the same time it sent shivers down the listener's spine. "It is not only the world that is depending on you, it is also the Gods."

The copper-haired woman dressed in a Tortallan Knight's tunic and breeches dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Her voice was fast and breathless as she spoke. "Mother, the King appreciates what you have given us, but how is it that Gods can be so easily rendered weak? Help us, Mother. To know our enemies strengths will make us stronger."

A hand rested lightly on the Knight's shoulder; she looked up. The Great Mother was as pale as ever, though for the first time she looked sickly. Her eyes did not possess their usual radiant beauty, but instead seemed bloodshot and tired. Black coils of hair hung limp around her shoulders. The majesty she normally stood tall with was lacking in a way the red-head never imagined possible. "Sit with me, my child." Even her voice seemed tired and strained.

Obediently, the Knight settled herself on the ground. As she did, the Goddess sat down opposite her, paying no attention to the emerald dress she wore being crushed. Moments passed and they sat there, the woman meeting the Mother's eyes. With a deep sigh the Goddess reached out and took the other's hands. "Alanna the Lioness of Trebond and Olau, a dark future awaits for Tortall and all of this world. The war has gone beyond anything imaginable. That Gods and Demons have been drained of their powers shows how serious a problem this is. What I want to tell you I do not possess the words to convey -- let me show you."

Alanna took a deep breath. Whatever the Mother wanted to show her, she knew it would be terrible. The Goddess's eyes came alive, and Alanna felt as though the wind was knocked out of her. Her body jerked, but the Mother kept a strong grip on her arms, keeping the connection. "Look into my eyes." Her voice sounded far away.

Fog was pressing in on Alanna's mind -- she forced it away, focusing as hard as she could on the Goddess's eyes. A powerful surge jumped through her body. It started in her arms where she touched the Mother, and spread out through her body. She felt weak in her limbs, and she smelled charred flesh and that wintry smell that comes when it snows. She was hearing voices, they were whispering, speaking, shouting. Her eyes widened as at last the surge in her body spread to them, and she saw. . . .

The Tortallan Knight was standing on a slight rise, about fifteen feet above the people below her. Every part of her body tingled and ached as she crouched to the ground. While she doubted they could see her, it was better to be safe.

"Was killing them really necessarily?" The man who spoke was pale, which contrasted sharply with the darkness of his hair. He sounded neither pleased nor angry, but in his voice there was a coldness that caused Alanna to shiver. He was wearing black from head to toe. His hose were black silk, his shirt black silk, and so was his sleeved dress tunic, which went down to mid-calf. It wasn't as if there was anywhere fancy to go. . . wherever it was they were.

"M'lord, I'm sorry! I tried to stop them, I did, I swear!" The second man was facing Alanna, and even from a distance she could see the panic in his dark eyes. This man was nothing like the first. His skin was pale, but his hair was blonde enough that it was not surprising to see. He looked Scanran.

The first man's voice was soft, terrifying: "You should've done a better job. . . ."

Alanna shivered so hard her teeth chattered. He walked off, leaving the panicking man alone. She took the opportunity to lever herself up a bit and look around. The burning flesh she was smelling was now apparent. About a hundred yards in front of her was a pyre of burning bodies -- presumably the bodies of whoever the dark haired-man hadn't thought it worth killing.

"Mahati! Sir! Mahati!" Alanna's neck cracked as she spun to see who was shouting. A second pale, blonde man was running through the snow, tripping and falling repeatedly as he stumbled. "Get Mahati!"

It took Alana a minute to realize he was yelling at the first Scanran man she had seen, who, while she was looking in horror at the pyre of bodies had begun walking towards a tent directly at the base of the hill she was atop.

The flap burst open -- the wind caught sharply against the material of the tent. The dark-haired man emerged.

"Mahati! Mahati!" The second Scanran man threw himself at the dark-haired man's feet. "There is word that a scout is here." He was breathless. "They say they saw a man in the mountains -- a scout!"

The dark-haired man -- Mahati -- clasped his hands together. He studied the Scanran over his hands. "I am right to assume that because you concern me with this, the scout is not yet dead?"

There was a whimper from the man at Mahati's feet. Mahati's back was still facing Alanna, so she could not see his expression, but she didn't need to. He kicked the man at his feet in the face, knocking him onto his back. The man didn't move as blood poured freely from his nose. His eyes were wide. "Did he escape?"

The Scanran was gasping something unintelligible.

Mahati nodded. With cruel deliberation he smashed the heel of his boot into the Scanran's face, mangling his nose further beyond recognition. The man squealed once, then fell silent. Mahati wiped his bloody boot in the snow -- red smeared everywhere.

"Now. . . I am trying to win a war. A war above the scale of any other -- ever. And _my _peopleare ruining my plan. . . ." There was a long pause. The tension in the air was palpable. Mahati's voice was icy again when he said, "Kill the scout. Adjust the lookout line. Double the lookout. As for him. . . castrate him."

Alanna blinked -- everything was going fuzzy. She was shaking again. Her vision was blurring out more. Everything was going silent. There was no smell, as if she was in the most sterile room in the world. Her body gave one final lurch as her vision faded to black. She blinked. The Great Mother smiled weakly at her.

"Now you see, my daughter, what we are up against. I have lived for the entirety of this world's existence, and then some, and never has there been a man as cruel as Mahati that I recall. He is behind everything. He was a Shang warrior, he is a master sorcerer, and he served several years in the Yamani Isles Imperial Army. Yet he doesn't look a day over thirty, does he?"

The red-head swallowed. She felt nauseous from both what she had seen, heard, and the physical sensation. Magic was often more unpleasant than she remembered.

"Shang warriors can't have the Gift," she finally said. "So how can be a Shang and a sorcerer?"

"Mithros and I made a grave mistake. Mahati showed so much potential from the day he was born. His parents were ordinary, but he was extraordinary. It had been foreseen that the world was in need of a savior. Mithros and I thought Mahati was that savior. So we concealed his Gift, knowing the Shang would want him as long as he had no Gift. He didn't understand how he had gotten in until his fourteenth birthday. Mithros went to him and explained everything. It was a mistake." The Goddess fell silent, touching Alanna's arm absently.

"What happened?" Alanna wasn't sure if she should press the issue, but if she was to help she needed to know all she could.

"Before we explained it to him Mahati had been careful, he had known he would be thrown out if he touched his Gift. He did not know how to use it. But when he learned we were shielding it from others, he began to train it on his own. With no books at the Shang palace, he tried based on trial and error. Somehow he became even stronger than we had imagined. He rebelled on us. We realized it was time to stop guarding him."

"What happened then?"

"He was already too strong. He was a Shang warrior and the most accomplished sorcerer of his age. He sought out a man who he believed to be the best sorcerer in the world, and joined the city's Rogue population to pay for training. By the time he was twenty-four, Mahati was the most powerful sorcerer in the world, the fifth most powerful Shang. Three months later he joined the Yamani Imperial Army. Their war against Carthak was bloody, but with Mahati on their side it was a massacre. He and the Yamani Imperial Army scouts snuck into the palace and took their king hostage. Carthak had no chance." The Mother sighed.

Alanna scraped at the skin on her hands. Mahati's record scared her. By the time she was twenty-four she had saved Tortall, but she was not the world's most powerful sorcerer or the fifth most powerful Shang.

"Do you know anything else?"

The Mother shook her head. "No. When he reached the age of twenty-eight, after about three and a half years in service of the Imperial Army, he left. That was when the Gods power started being drained. That was a year ago. We tried to fight back, but either Mahati has a Demon on his side, or Mahati is a Demon -- but how Mithros and I missed that makes no sense."

The Goddess rose to her feet, but it was without her usual grace. Alanna followed as the Goddess began to walk out of the long hall. Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor, resounding up to the high ceiling. The weather outside the windows was dreary -- she had never seen weather in the Divine Realms as anything but beautiful.

The Mother opened the doors and gestured for Alanna to pass through. Outside it looked much like a stormy night at Corus.

"I know the task I have requested from you is immense, dangerous, and almost impossible. . . . My gift to you." She pointed off the side of the landing, down the stairs and into the courtyard outside the palace.

Several thousand warriors were standing there, dressed in flowing silvery cloaks with their hoods up. Many carried long bows, while others were equipped with long swords and shields. Others carried hunting knives.

"Go, examine them," the Goddess urged her. "They're yours. Four thousand angels. A legion of Angels."

Alanna nodded at the Goddess, (she couldn't summon a smile) and walked down the long stairs. The Angels stared ahead of themselves, ignoring her motions. They weren't what she expected when the Goddess said they were Angels. Though remarkably beautiful, she saw no great differences between them and herself. They were taller, leaner, more attractive, and certainly had the most amazingly crafted weapons, but somehow they seemed lacking to her.

"Unimpressed?" She spun around, nearly drawing her sword out of habit, but realizing as she reached for it that it would be useless. The man behind her was tall with tanned skin and dark hair -- he wore armor made of gold. "Normally the angels are more impressive," Mithros said. "But, like the Mother and I, their powers are fading. They are mortal now." He put his hand on Alanna's shoulder.

"Oh," she said. His hand felt strong on her shoulder, but it could not comfort her. "So. . . please, Mithros, I'm not trying to be disrespectful, but I need to know what my troops are capable of. . . they're just like four thousand soldiers of Earth?"

The God shook his head. "No, they are mortal, but they are much more durable than humans. As long as they retain but an ounce of their magic, they are ten times faster and ten times more powerful than one human. They can also fly." He turned to the angels, still standing facing forward with their silvery cloaks wrapped around them. Mithros bellowed: "_Legion_! _Battle formation_!"

In one swift moment that Alanna barely saw, the angels unhooked their cloaks and they swirled out of existence. A great rumbling passed through their ranks simultaneously as the knights drew their swords and shields, the scouts their hunting knives and crouched to the ground, and the archers their great oak long bows, as tall as they were, and strung an arrow.

"That, daughter, is what they can do," Mithros said, facing Alanna again. "They are at your command, and will do whatever you want. They will follow you to any end. Elei! Irina!"

The angels stowed their weapons, conjured their cloaks and fastened them on in the blink of an eye, then their ranks split down the middle and one of the angels walked forward.

From the right came a second angel, as graceful and elegant as the first. The both of them stopped in front of Alanna and tossed back their hoods. The one on the left was male with the most beautiful face Alanna had ever laid eyes on that wasn't a God. His hair was black, pulled into a ponytail at his neck. His eyes were ice blue. He held out his hand. "I am Elei." His voice reminded her of a river crashing through the woods -- both beautiful and scary. "This is my legion."

The woman on Alanna's right was almost as tall as Elei. She had blonde hair that was braided from the top of her head all the way down her back. With high cheek bones and a very feminine jaw, it was obvious she was not a human warrior. Her lips were rosy without the help of paint. Her eyes were the same emerald green that the Goddess's were. "My name is Irina. If Elei succumbs to death, I take over command of the legion."

Elei's eyes pierced Alanna as he said, "We answer to you, our legion answers to us."

The copper-haired human looked at Mithros. "How come Gods have armies? You're supposed to be immortal."

"Ah. My daughter, you see, Gods engage in battles with other Gods, and we are never immortal to their power."

Alanna nodded and bit her lip. It was all very concerning. Even with four thousand angels at her command, she wasn't sure if she could win this war. Not even Corus's best mages had been able to figure out how Mahati was draining the Gods power, and on top of that, Mithros had said that as long as the Angels retained some of their power they would be ten times faster and stronger.

"What happens when you lose your power?"

Irina opened her mouth, but Elei held up his hand to silence her. Then he said, "We become like humans. We will be no more powerful than a legion of your. . . human soldiers."

"Alanna, my daughter! Go, go!" Alanna turned around to see the Mother running clumsily down the stairs to the palace. "Mithros! They're going to attack, can't you feel it?"

Mithros closed his eyes, then they flashed open. "Alanna, run! You must get out of here. A mortal won't be able to withstand this attack!"

Before Alanna could speak, Elei was calling out orders and Irina had grabbed Alanna around the waist. "We must fly," she whispered in her ear. The human turned her head to look at the legion as their cloaks disappeared once more, but this time great silver wings (the same color as their cloaks) unfurled from their backs, and in one movement the legion leapt to the sky, Alanna gasping for breath as Irina yanked her into the air. Despite the way Irina was holding Alanna, she felt surprisingly secure in her arms. Must be an Angel thing, she reasoned.

As she looked back towards the palace, the side wall of the palace was blasted out. Her heart leapt into her throat. She'd never felt fear like this before. It was a different war if you knew the Gods were in trouble.

"Archers!" Elei's voice cut through Alanna's fear. "Mages in the mountains, shoot them down!"

As one the archers drew their longbows, taking aim as they continued flying in close formation. Irina's voice sounded above Alanna's head: "Break formation to save your lives, we cannot fall now!"

Alanna closed her eyes, reaching deep inside and drawing on the fiery ball of violet magic inside her. Breath came harder to her as she curled it out, muttering a shield spell under her breath. Sweat was beading up on her forehead as she forced it to extend around the entire legion. It was a thin layer, but it would hold out a few weak attacks.

_No, you don't_, the voice sounded like nails on chalkboard inside Alanna's head. A second later a barrage of magic came shooting up at them -- it was the last thing she remembered.


End file.
